Page 6 of Ex- Factor
The centerpiece was a phoenix. It wasn’t a cheap tat—it looked like something you paid a few thousand for because you wanted to show off.
There was a jester’s hat that matched his personality. Under it was script: If a clown wore a crown, I’d be a king.
And a peacock feather in all different shades of blue.
I ran my tongue across my teeth, thinking about the kiss from earlier.
Okay, I admit it—he was sexy.
He walked over and sat on the edge of my bed, his eyes scanning my face.
“You’re so pretty,” he said.
“I know,” I replied. I wasn’t being rude or cocky. My granny always said never take the truth as a compliment—because then you’ll start doubting it when nobody says it out loud.
I lifted a hand, curious and drunk-bold. Well, I had always been bold, but I’d blame it on the liquor tonight. My fingers landed on the peacock feather. I traced it with my fingertips—his skin was hot to the touch.
“You’re braver than I expected,” he said, catching my wrist. He pressed my hand flat against his chest. His heart was thumping fast.
“You see what you do to me,” he said, all smooth. That sent a ripple through my whole body—
I swallowed hard.
My mouth had suddenly gone dry, and my pussy was hot enough to melt my panties.
He continued.
“And now you gotta take responsibility for it.”
I sighed.
Ooh chile, Jesus be some discernment—because he had me ready to do something I was almost positive I wouldn’t regret in the morning, which was exactly why I didn’t need to do it.
I was healing. Trying to work on myself.
I needed to be alone for a while.
I tilted my head, let my eyes trace his face. “Silas…” I started, not even knowing what I was about to say. I stopped myself and switched gears.
“You don’t even look drunk,” I said, squinting at him.
“I’m not.” He smirked. “I did a lot of coke when I was younger. A few glasses of liquor do nothing to me. I tricked you into letting me stay because I just needed a few more hours with you.”
I pulled my hand back, blinking. “You always this honest?”
“Not always. Hardly ever.”
I studied his face.
He wasn’t joking.
“Damn,” I said. “Well, thanks for the honesty. Why now?”
He just shrugged, like it didn’t cost him anything to share.
“Because lying didn’t get me anything worth keeping, so I stopped.”
Then he laid back on my bed like it was his. Arms folded behind his head. Hair still wet, dripping onto my pillow.
